The Fluffy Menace
by Random Ruth
Summary: Athos and d'Artagnan stumble upon a puppy lost in the woods. It decides to follow them home, and soon manages to get on the wrong side of the royals... One-shot.


**Author's Note:** Written on a prompt from _fariedragon_, who read my previous Musketeers-meet-a-puppy fic, "Puppy Dog Tails": _Could you write another story based on the idea that a puppy followed/was found by Athos or d'Artagnan and now they have to deal with it? And what is Treville's take on having said pup in the garrison?_ Well, I've certainly tried. Enjoy! :)

* * *

**The Fluffy Menace**

* * *

Athos was examining some rather beautiful red wildflowers in the forest when a bush nearby yipped at him. He had his sword levelled on the shrubbery in an instant, and began to creep slowly forwards. Cautiously he used the tip of the blade to part some of the leaves, tense and ready to strike. Instead he found himself blinking in confusion.

"d'Artagnan!" he hissed in a whisper. A head popped out from behind a tree. "Over here!"

d'Artagnan jogged over to see what the fuss was about. He peered into the bush. "Oh," he said.

A small, grey, curly-haired puppy had managed to become tangled in the bush's twisting branches. It wagged its tail at the sight of the two confused men and yipped excitedly. Athos put his sword away and together with d'Artagnan set about wriggling the puppy free.

* * *

Athos and d'Artagnan found Aramis and Porthos at the table in the courtyard, enjoying a second helping of broth from the large potful that the cook had made.

"Where have you two been?" Porthos asked, taking in the bedraggled appearance of the new arrivals.

Aramis swallowed a mouthful of his broth before he asked, "And why has d'Artagnan got leaves in his hair?"

d'Artagnan hastily patted his head, previously unaware of this fact, and groaned. A desperate solo dance to remove the leaves and twigs from his hair ensued.

"I was too big to fit into the bush, but that is not the point—" Athos began to explain.

Porthos raised his arm into the air. "I have another question – what's that?" He helpfully pointed at the ball of grey fluff that was standing behind d'Artagnan as he tried to remove all the vegetation from his hair. d'Artagnan took a step back and...

"_Ow_!" he cried from his new position on the ground, the puppy attempting to lick his face.

"That's the puppy d'Artagnan and I saved from certain death in the forest," Athos announced proudly.

"What were you both doing in the forest?" Aramis asked with his eyes narrowed.

"We, er, uh..." Athos stuttered.

"Alright, alright – Athos and I share an interest in wildflowers!" shouted d'Artagnan, getting slowly to his feet and rubbing his sore bottom. "There, we've admitted it at last. You two happy now?"

"Very," Porthos chuckled.

There was a pause, during which the puppy decided there was something interesting under the table.

"I thought you would've had a bet on it or something..." d'Artagnan said at last.

"We both suspected it," said Aramis, "but neither of was willing to bet on it not being true. We've seen the flowers that Constance has in her kitchen, and the décor of your own room, Athos, when we've had to drag you home – drunk."

"What are you going to do with it?" Porthos asked.

"The flowers? I'll put them in a pot in my room—" answered Athos.

"No, no, the puppy. What are you going to do with it?"

"She's a female puppy," informed Athos. "I don't know what we'll do with her. We tried to send her on her way, but she followed us back here."

Aramis glanced around. "Uh... where is she, then?"

d'Artagnan and the Musketeers couldn't find the ball of grey fluff anywhere – that is, until they heard the yipping coming from the Captain's office.

* * *

Captain Treville was in his office, doing the paperwork that was necessary to keep the garrison in order. It was a nice day and he'd left the door ajar to let a bit of fresh air in. He could easily hear the chatter of his soldiers in the courtyard below even though he wasn't listening to what was being said.

Movement near the door caught his eye, and he looked up from the papers on his desk to see that a ball of grey fluff had entered his office. It had four legs, small floppy ears, and a wiggly tail, though these features were quite difficult to spot under that grey fur. It reminded Treville of an undergrown sheep. When it looked up at him from where it had been sniffing the floor he saw a dog's nose. A puppy, then.

He put on a big smile. "Hello, there," he said, his voice high-pitched, "who are you, then?"

The puppy ran over to the friendly-sounding voice and started to play with one of his boots. Treville stood from his desk, careful not to step on the puppy that was dashing around his feet. He carefully picked the puppy up. It was very excited by this, wriggling and wagging its – her – tail and panting happily. She yipped at him.

"Who's a pretty girl, then?" Treville asked the puppy in a squeaky voice. "Who's a pretty girl? Who is? Yes, it's... _you_! You! Yes it is! You're a pretty girl!" The puppy leaned forwards and licked him on the nose. "Was that a sloppy kiss? Yes, it was a sloppy kiss!" His moustache twitched as the puppy licked his nose once more. "Lots of sloppy kisses! Yes..."

"Ahem," said Athos, who now stood in the doorway with Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan, all watching proceedings with much amusement.

Treville hastily set the puppy down, the puppy's eyes going wide in confusion, clearing his throat as he went. "What is this animal doing in my office?" he bellowed. "Remove it at once!"

The puppy chose to run over to Porthos, who picked her up obligingly. She began to chew on his studded leather collar while Porthos joined with the others in giving Treville a knowing stare.

"Isn't there a Duke's visit or something to be getting prepared for?" Treville snapped, desperate for the attention to be removed from him. The four men in his doorway remained still. "Get to it, then!" He waved his arms wildly and at last they started to leave. He could hear the chuckles start as soon as the door was closed behind them.

* * *

King Louis sat regally on a throne in a tent, the Queen and the Cardinal on either side of him. It was a talent born of royal blood that one could sit regally in a tent. The Musketeers and d'Artagnan stood in a neat row behind Captain Treville. Everybody was still and silent, awaiting the arrival of the visiting Duke.

Suddenly there was a commotion in the royal tent as a little grey ball of fluff darted between the three occupants.

"She must have followed us here," d'Artagnan whispered to Aramis who was stood beside him.

Treville watched in poorly concealed horror as the puppy played with the King's boots. The King wasn't too bothered about it until...

"There's a hole in my boots! A _hole_!" the King wailed. "Can you see that, Cardinal?" He held up his boot while the puppy jumped around him, enjoying her game. There was a jagged-edged hole at the toe.

"Yes, sire," the Cardinal confirmed in a long-suffering tone, "I can indeed see your pink socks."

"This will not do!" The King was outraged, his cheeks becoming an even brighter shade of pink than his socks. "Off with that puppy's head!" He pointed at the offending puppy.

"Sire..." began the Cardinal with a sigh.

"_Louis_!" the Queen hissed incredulously. "How could you? It's only a puppy!"

"But – my socks—" the King protested.

"I agree with Her Majesty, sire," said the Cardinal, "the sentence is perhaps a little too harsh under the circumstances."

The King slumped on his throne. "Fine," he huffed. "_Treville_!" The Captain jogged up to stand before the King. He picked up the puppy and more or less threw it at Treville. "I banish this puppy from the Kingdom. See to it that it is done," he instructed.

"Sire," Treville nodded.

Just then the carriage containing the visiting Duke approached. Treville hurried back into his previous position, puppy in his arms. The two black horses drawing the carriage were in-step as they slowed to a stop in front of the royal tent, wherein the King was muttering, "I wouldn't have this problem if I'd worn a dress..."

* * *

Later on and back at the courtyard, much pacing was in progress. "We have to get this puppy safely out of the country," said Porthos seriously.

"Of course we do – but how? We can't just throw her across the bridge and expect her to stay there. She needs a home," Athos stated.

Aramis was deep in thought, absently watching as d'Artagnan kept the puppy entertained with a twig on the other side of the courtyard. Aramis was tapping his chin when suddenly the idea came to him. "One of us will have to shave off our beard," he announced.

Porthos and Athos clutched at their beards in outrage. "What? Why?" Porthos spluttered.

"I don't want to shave my beard!" exclaimed Athos, his eyes suspiciously moist.

"Well then, we'll need someone who doesn't have a beard for my amazingly brilliant plan to work," Aramis said. The three Musketeers looked to d'Artagnan at the same time with frankly terrifying expressions on their faces. d'Artagnan gulped under the scrutiny. "I'll make further arrangements and see if I can find somebody willing to have the puppy," Aramis continued, and walked off with purpose.

"Whatever it is," d'Artagnan said once Aramis was gone, "the answer is 'no'."

* * *

That evening on the bridge that separated France from Spain a burly man with a scar on his face approached one of the guards, accompanied by his pregnant wife. He gave the guard the required number of coins to pass over and was just about to lead his wife onto the bridge when she made a strange high-pitched noise and clutched frantically at her bulging belly.

"Are you well, madam?" the guard asked with genuine concern.

She nodded. "Quite, quite," she said in a suspiciously deep voice. "She's a kicker." The wife chuckled somewhat nervously.

The husband gave his wife a one-armed squeeze around the shoulders and smiled at the guard. "Come along, my sweet," he said, leading her onwards.

The guard watched them go. _What a lovely couple_, he thought.

Husband and wife wasted no time in crossing the bridge, the wife especially light of foot. The guard was just about to go home for the day when he spotted the husband and his wife conversing with a woman and her child. He saw the woman and child leaving soon after with a small, grey puppy in tow.

* * *

**THE END**

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**A/N: **[Evil laughter] Ah, picking on d'Artagnan is just too much fun, heh heh. Thanks for reading! :)


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